


Sinfonia

by soapskin



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: F/F, M/M, Symphonystuck, and john is a guest pianist :OO, and the rest of the characters are in the orchestra, um this is an experiment i dunno how itll go yet, where dave is the conductor for the CSO
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soapskin/pseuds/soapskin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Chicago Symphony Orchestra is for some reason filled with a lot of young people, and it is in this musically talented and surprisingly snarky setting that prodigy conductor Dave Strider meets pianist John Egbert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sinfonia

**Author's Note:**

> wow ok so um this is a huge experiment because i never write and describing music is hard and  
> yeah  
> tell me if you like it enough for more chapters and also criticism would be great!! thank  
> also this was partially inspired by a bleach fanfiction called Symphony but it was taken down and i cant find the authors accound :((

The audience was hushed, bathed in silence and darkness, focused on the spotlighted stage. The conductor stood ramrod, a figurine poised in a case. An inhale, a downbeat of the pale hands- the smooth tones of the horns cut through the air, followed by the taps of the grand piano. The sleek, black instrument was set right at the front of the stage, and it was impossible not to crane a little further forward when the heavy staccato sang out. The pianist was- unlikely, not as weathered as the soloists the audience usually saw. He was a young man, black suit as standard, blue bowtie; and he played with a grace beyond his years.

 Brahms’ Piano Concerto No. 2 was one of the most famous, one of the most often performed, and one of the best. The pianist was under scrutiny- could he live up to the standard? He was not who they had been expecting, after all, and many critics had their pens tapping eagerly.

 His hands were like birds, like waves, like the wind. His fingers danced across the black and white keys, and his whole body followed the flight of his hands. People who were at the concert, front row, remember him playing with “a little anger, a little sadness- like a summer storm” and it was all very romantic and bit unusual. With every crest he thundered, the diminuendos he pitter-pattered. Brahms No. 2 was one of the longest piano concertos out there, but he played it marvelously. When Allegro Appassionato, the second- most well known- movement, was finished, the audience was on their feet; moved by the charm of the music.

 The orchestra was incandescent. The cello solo in the third movement split the air in long, sweeping notes, slow and sweet. The famous brass section of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra was strong, lengths of brazen sound blending with the dulcet tones of the strings. The passion in the air filled the concert hall, brought together at the hands of the prodigal conductor. The sleek black form on the podium with the platinum blonde hair waved his baton with animated precision, enthusiasm for the art evident in his movements.

 Critics would rant and rave the day after- nothing short of a masterpiece, they said! A performance by one of the highest esteemed orchestras in the world and an unexpected guest pianist- brilliant! The conductor only 25; the pianist, 24! In a field dominated by older men and women with decades of performing experience, this was unparalleled; a coming together of the younger generation. Was it the best concert of the CSO? No. Was it the most skilled performance of Brahms’ concerto? No. But it was certainly a concert to be a remembered.

 Dave Strider did not give a shit about all this.

 Well okay, no, that wasn’t true. He was supremely relieved and very proud that the concert hadn’t crashed and burned like he had expected it to, and was more than happy for the publicity they had received.

 But the _important_ thing was, this was the day Dave met John Egbert.

 ~~~

 After the concert was over- they went through a Sibelius and a quick Mussorgsky after the Brahms- the conductor went back stage to shakes hand and congratulate everyone. Specifically, he wanted to speak to the pianist. Dave strode through the crowd, occasionally stopping to shake hands, pose for a picture, smile charmingly at the patrons- yes, yes, thank you, I’m terribly sorry Madame Dolorosa wasn’t here but this guy was pretty good, eh?- all he while looking for mussed black hair and a blue bowtie.

 He was over by the water fountain, chatting with the principal violinist. Rose threw Dave a look as he approached, a fleeting (but oh-so-smug!) smirk sliding across her face before excusing herself. The blonde watched in a combination of gratefulness and annoyance as his half sister sidled over to chat up the harpist.

Anyway.

 For someone who was so graceful onstage, he sure was awkward off of it. John just radiated enthusiasm, almost bouncing on his heels. He thrust his hand out a little too fast, retracted it, and then held it out again. Dave shook it firmly, smiling a little.

“Yo, Egbert. You rocked that Brahms; congrats.”

John always looked a little surprised when Dave spoke so casually. It contradicted with his image of being a genius maestro but hey, he was only 25 #yolo.

“Haha, thanks! I’ve never worked with a conductor my age either, so you’re very talented.” 

He didn’t really fit the image of a professional pianist. With his big blue eyes, old-fashioned glasses, and buckteeth, he seemed more like a misplaced college student than a virtuoso. Dave appreciated that way more than a wrinkled old fart, however, and the more they chatted, the more he liked the man. He wasted no time in laying on the Strider charm.

 “Hey, how bout we get some drinks later on? I appreciate you saving my ass for this concert- I nearly had a fucking seizure when I found out Dolorosa couldn’t come.” 

“I- uh, okay, sure?” John fiddled with his hands, obviously not used to this sort of interaction in his profession.

As Aranea came up and tapped on his shoulder, beckoning him to go, Dave turned and drawled, “Meet me at Hugo’s in an hour! It’s right on Main Street, can’t miss it. I’ll be there with some of the other orchestra members.”

The blonde’s last sight was John’s nodding head before his secretary ushered him through the crowd, and he couldn’t help but think _damn, Egbert is cute._

 


End file.
